


Nights before Christmas

by Corveille, MysticalFG



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Connor-centric, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60, Drinking to Cope, Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson and Connor Live Together, Light Angst, One Shot, POV Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corveille/pseuds/Corveille, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticalFG/pseuds/MysticalFG
Summary: Christmas supposedly, is a time to be with family and loved ones and be grateful for little things in life. That’s the conclusion Connor gathered from his talk with Chris.-Beautiful Art made by MysticalFG
Relationships: Connor & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60, Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Connor & Sumo
Comments: 15
Kudos: 63
Collections: New ERA Discord: Winter Big Bang





	Nights before Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Well then, Here is our work for the Winter Big Bang event! The theme was _'finding home'_ so I hope this thing I did has some of that in it, somewhere ^^'.
> 
> So yeah, have this mess of a fic with gorgeous art made by MysticalFG. 
> 
> (You'll probably find mistakes and I apologize for those as I'm not a native English-speaker.)
> 
> (Also as always I can't do titles)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It starts as an innocent question.

“Are you thinking about coming to the Christmas party this year, Lieutenant?” Connor asks from the kitchen table as he finishes replenishing the last drops of thirium into his system. Hank stops drinking his glass and glares back at Connor, shifting in the comfort of his seat to get a better view of the android.

“What brought this on?” Hank asks after Connor gets up and comes over to sit on the couch. The stiff posture the old lieutenant takes when Connor sits by the arm rest—as if he’s sure the android has some ulterior motive to the question— makes Connor tilt his head. He doesn’t really have one, unless of course, pure curiosity counts.

“Chris mentioned it to me this afternoon while you were in the break room. He seemed eager for us to join.” The conversation took Connor by surprise, he never considered the precinct would throw a party around or —more like— he never thought he would be encouraged to be a part of it by his peers. He certainly wouldn’t have months ago. On hindsight, maybe he should have left the question for another day. If the way Hank’s shoulders drop heavily onto the headrest of the couch is not evidence enough of his mess-up, the tired tone in which he says the android’s name surely is.

"Connor…" the angle in which Hank’s head drops makes the eye-bags look bigger and more pronounced. "I'm not—I’m not one to jump in first on this holiday's shit,” Hank looks at the half-empty bottle, resting on the table and—as Connor follows his gaze— he sees the reflection of his LED, shining in yellow.

“Haven't had much to celebrate about in a while."

"Maybe you could start again, then." he says and gets up from the couch, heading into the kitchen again to look for a leash. "We could just try to have fun, you, Sumo and I." Hank doesn't give more than a grunt at that, not taking his eyes of cheap brand of alcohol, but he doesn't try to take another drink again.

Connor thinks of it as a small victory.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take Sumo on a walk, should I bring you anything?" he says in a rather casual manner, giving the Lieutenant an out. 

He knows he shouldn't sound so eager, not with a Holiday that can threaten to bring less than pleasant memories when Hank has just started to get better. But he can not deny that he’s curious.

Christmas supposedly, is a time to be with family and loved ones and be grateful for little things in life. That’s the conclusion Connor gathered from his talk with Chris.

He doesn’t have a family by human standards. Most that he owns is a small but colorful crassula that was given to him on his first official day of work. By strict definition, there isn’t a lot more for Connor to celebrate either, except for his free will, and even then that’s complicated. 

Taking in the fact that most in Jericho are still wary of him for his past deeds, he’s not sure they would appreciate him showing up to celebrate the freedom of his kind when he’s still viewed as an image of fear and hate by a few.

And yet, he still wants to experience something special with the man that played such a big role in helping him gain that freedom. To Connor, Hank is the closest thing to a concept of family he can think of besides...

The leash bends under his fingers as he squeezes at the fabric.

Besides Amanda, though he’s not attempted to connect to the Garden since the end of the revolution.

"Nah," Hank finally says, taking advantage of the extra space to spread his body onto the rest of the couch. "Just make sure Sumo doesn’t get lost chasing after a squirrel or something—don't give me that look you know I'm right."

Sumo rests his head on top of Hank's chest, looking at him with soft pleading eyes. It only gets him having his fur ruffled up. 

"Don't give Connor a hard time eh? Be a good dog."

"I'm sure he will, Hank." with a scratch behind Sumo's ear, Connor gets the dog to follow him to the door. "I'll be back in an hour. Remember to eat dinner."

"Whatever." The TV turns on the moment Sumo is leashed and they head outside. Connor catches how Hank gives a few glimpses at the whiskey, still on the table, as he goes to close the front door.

He tries not to think too hard about how his LED changes to red because of it.

* * *

A fresh mantle of snow rest on the streets they walk in, letting Connor see the footprints of all the people that went down this road before him, as well as Sumo’s, who happily strolls in front of the android. His tail wagging every now and then, showing his excitement. The holiday decor around the houses makes the cold night seem more welcoming, casting the snow in a faint soft light. Connor follows the fairy lights wrapped around the power lines as they walk, each of them dance gently in the wind along with the snowflakes falling to the ground. 

He likes this part of the Holiday.

“Easy Sumo.” He tugs on the leash to stop the huge animal from chasing after a stray black cat, sitting on top of a bench nearby. The feline barely moves from the spot, glaring at Connor with narrowed eyes while he makes Sumo walk past it. 

“No running after other animals, remember?” The short gruff he gets as response has Connor thinking how pets really _do_ take after their owners.

Connor takes his eyes off the sidewalk to watch the few shops still open this late at night. Stopping at a street-light, he looks over to the other side of the road where a couple sits in one of the tables inside a restaurant. A lonely rose rest inside a vase next to a lit candle, forgotten as the couple exchange funny anecdotes about their lives. The dim reflection on the wide window shows him how his LED changes into a bright yellow. 

For a moment Connor imagines that rose staring back at him, pictures dark eyes judging him while he’s surrounded by the cold.

“Come on now, let’s not idle.” he makes Sumo walk a bit faster as the light turns green, averting his gaze from the restaurant. He watches the temperature drop in his peripheral and focuses on trying to find a bush the dog can use to relieve himself.

Thankfully Sumo doesn’t take long once they find a small park. In the dead of night the scenery almost looks peaceful. The warm lights on each tree stop him from thinking too much of the frost covering the branches, and all around him. 

He's getting ready to take Sumo back when he's pinged by an incoming call. He knows belongs to Jimmy’s bar once he scans the number. Connor sighs and scratches Sumo’s head before taking it.

“Hank?” he answers, already expecting the lieutenant’s voice or maybe Jimmy’s to come from the other side. Night escapades like these are not as common as they used to be in the past, not since the android came to stay in Hank’s house still—maybe _because_ of the talk they had earlier—this night chose to be an exception.

“Come find me.” Hank’s voice says and then the call ends. The abruptness of it has Connor pausing his steps. A little confused, he calls the bar back only to find the number is now occupied. A sense of worry grips tightly at his thirium pump when any tries at calling Hank's phone directly lead straight to voicemail.

“Come on Sumo,” he tries to remain calm as he calls for a taxi next.

He can only hope Hank is okay.

* * *

Out of all the possible outcomes Connor’s pre-constructions system predicted after that call, finding Hank sitting on a stool next to the bar top greedily chugging down a glass of whiskey— currently unaware of the upset android now standing by the door by the looks of it— is not one of them.

Shaking his head, Connor ties Sumo to one of the empty tables and immediately he notices those double the amount compared to the occupied ones. It’s not common occurrence for this kind of bar to be this bare, much less on Fridays. Connor would’ve thought that, now that Jimmy has incorporate thirium based drinks into the menu, the amount of customers would increase. Then again, most of the people who frequent the place are not exactly fond of androids. 

Maybe it was just a slow night.

“The sign says no dogs allowed.” Connor hears Jimmy groan as he approaches the table-top. He gives a slight smile in the bartender’s direction.

“I think I remember this place having a ‘no androids’ sign as well not long ago.”

“That’s completely different—”Jimmy begins but makes the mistake of making contact with Sumo’s eyes. Connor’s lips twitch when the Saint Bernard whines as he watches the man, sitting obediently next to the door— “ah dammit, whatever.” Jimmy raises his hands dramatically before going to pour another drink.  
  
Good dog.

Hank’s head shoots up when he hears the android and looks owlishly at Connor, blinking multiple times. Strange.

“What the...Connor?!” Connor ignores the surprise in the other’s voice in favor of scanning him, no visible injuries as far as he can see. There doesn’t seem to be any sights of a fight having taken place recently.

“How much did you drink, Lieutenant?” he asks, doing a poor job at hiding how he glances at the collection of glasses set on the table.

“Don’t start with that bullshit, what ‘re you even doing here?” By the slight slur in his words Connor assumes Hank’s had more than he could handle. 

“You called me here,” he says slowly, trying to reason with the drunk man in front of him. “you sounded like you needed me.” 

“The fuck I did, I don’ have a phone wit’ me.” Well, that would explain him not answering Connor’s calls.

“Lieutenant—.”

“I didn’ call ya here. I didn’ want you to be here with all that Christmas bullshit, fuckin’ android.” 

Connor has to will his hands not to turn into fists, reminding himself is best not to take what a drunk person might say to heart. Hank has said similar things before while being in his intoxicated state. It doesn’t stop his stress from growing, seeing the lieutenant crumble down into his vices in a single night.

If he’s drunk enough to forget what he did a few minutes ago, it must be bad. Hank might fuss but it’s better to get him back to his house before things escalate more than they already have.

Connor sits on the stool adjacent to Hank and reaches for the pockets of his coat.

“Hey, hey what are you—?” Based on what the android knows Hank has a preference of keeping his car keys on the left side of his body. He fishes them out before Hank can stop him. “Getting robbed by an android cop, unbelievable.” 

“Detective, and we are going home.” Connor says firmly and drops money to pay for the drinks. He takes hold of Hank’s free arm and drags it over both of his shoulders, feeling the added weight on his back as Hank slumps against him the second he’s up.

“I don’ need a fuckin’ babysitter.” Connor hears being murmured on the back of his neck and despite everything, he smiles.

“But you need help to get to your car.” Connor looks over his shoulder around the populated tables. The telephone stands on the wall next to the staff door, and right at the end of the bar-top. 

It must’ve been a struggle for Hank to reach the phone in order to call for him. His voice sounded different too, now that Connor reviews it, more composed and certainly less drunk. The taxi drive didn’t last more than twenty minutes to get in here but it’s possible the alcohol hit Hank after he made the call.

Hank groans as he rubs softly at his head. Connor chooses not to stay long enough to question things further.

With Sumo’s leash in one hand and supporting Hank with the other, he exits the bar. He finds Hank’s car parked two blocks away, seemingly untouched except for the soft dusting of snow. 

“Really, how did you know I was here?” Hank says before resting his head on Connor’s hair. And something in the way he makes the question has the android no completely convinced Hank’s contradictory actions are due to the alcohol in his system. 

“A little bird told me…” Connor ends up saying and drives them back to the house.

Connor doesn’t really want to admit that what happened at the bar keeps him awake from most of the night. Android don’t really need sleep— a few hours of stasis are more than enough to allow his processors to get into optimal condition again—but with a lap full of Saint Bernard trapping him against the couch there’s not a lot he can do once he hits those hours of ‘rest’. Hank is currently in his room, finally resting the alcohol away. His loud snores matches the ones coming from his loyal dog in a synchronized duet and the android doesn’t have in in him to disturb either of their sleep.

So Connor lets his thoughts wander.

* * *

In the morning, against the odds, Hank is the first one to wake up. Connor is a little impressed, he really thought that due to the hangover Hank wouldn’t set foot into the hallway until pass noon. 

Still acting as Sumo’s temporary pillow, Connor waits patiently for Hank to notice him. Said man doesn’t realize he has a hostage situation going inside his own house until he’s gone through his second cup of coffee. 

“You know you can’t really let him rule you over like this, right?” He simply asks after Connor waves at him, and walks back into the kitchen.

“I don’t mind.”

Sumo’s ear perk up at the sound of food being dropped onto his bowl. Connor fails to stop his mouth from growing into a frown as the dog looses total interest in him and trots away in search for his meal.

“Don’t look all moody. He’ll just grow even more spoiled that way.” says Hank after he drops himself next to Connor on the couch and the android schools his face back to a neutral look.

“I’m not.” That get a long hum out of Hank. 

“Sure you aren’t.”

A comfortable silent falls on the room after Hank sets his coffee on the table and leans back, with Sumo busy in the kitchen is it just the two of them in here. 

“How are you feeling?” Connor ask tentatively once he sees Hank doesn’t make a move to grab the remote.

“Like shit but that’s given.” Hank grunts and grips the bridge of his nose. “Haven’t puke yet so I’ll say we are off to a better start than usual.” 

Although that’s good, Connor still glances at the now luke-warm coffee. He knows he’s less than likely to win a fight about the benefits of water this early in the morning, so he goes ahead and takes the cup to his side of the table with the pretext that it’s already cold. 

The glare Hank sends his away is weak, apparently he doesn't have the energy to argue with Connor today either. Instead, he rubs at the back of his neck and seems to hesitate on what to say.

“Hey—uh...did I say anything while I was drunk?”

“You said a lot of things.” Some of them hurtful, but Connor should have expected it—all of this— the moment he involved a time of the year that reminded Hank of Cole. “And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked about the party.”

“Jesus Connor no. Just because I have a problem with this holiday doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you. You were just curious for fuck’s sake.”

“Still, I should have known better.”

“And I should learn to let go of my grudges.” Hank has a pensive look on his face as he stares down at the floor. “I... don’t think I’m ready for partying and all that shit again but what you said about us three… just let me think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” And the conversation dies there but —as far as the android can tell— that Hank is willing to consider it is a pretty big step and Connor is happy that they’re dealing with this in a better, much calmer way.

As Hank begins to get up, he adds. “Can I ask you a question?”

“We’ve been through enough Connor, you can ask me anything.”

“Do you remember making a call while at Jimmy’s?” 

“Uh not really, but to be fair most I remember is seeing you and Sumo there and thinking I was hallucinating.” Hank scratches his head, messing his morning hair even more than it already is. “That’s why you knew where to find me, yeah you said that right? That I called you?” Connor nods, then smiles a little when the other puts both hands on his face.

“Shit, the things I do while drunk.” Hank looks up to find Sumo walking back into the living room. “And you! _You_ didn’t try to stop me from running my mouth,” he scolds while petting the dog’s head once he’s close enough, “worst dog.” 

His stern voice turns into a laugh as Sumo tries to lick his face, overjoyed to be getting all the attention.

The previous night is pretty much left forgotten after that.

* * *

Sumo is starting to eat less.

It is not that he rejects the food. The dog eats well enough in the morning but Connor’s been noticing how he doesn’t eat the full content out of his bowl when the android goes to feed him in the afternoon, nearing dinner time. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with him, not that his scanners can tell him at least. Sumo’s energy is still the same as before, Connor would say more than a dog his age should have. He doesn’t seem to be in any pain either.

“Maybe is the change in weather, it’s been getting colder these days.” Hank tells him casually when the android talks to him about it, though Connor notices how he starts checking on Sumo more often before the two of them head out to work.

It doesn’t seem to be just a change in appetite but also in his preferences of places to take naps. Hank doesn’t really see the change but based on Connor’s records Sumo usually waits for them to show up in the living room, his favorite spot being right next to the heater closest to the front door.

Now, when Connor get back in the evening, he finds Sumo resting near the one in the kitchen and only moves back into the living room if Connor is sitting on the couch.

But with the exception of those two things Sumo keep behaving normally, sleeping on top of the android as usual and leaving him little option on whether he can move during the night. Though, Connor does finds it strange that Sumo’s bag of food seems a little lighter to him when he picks it up.

The scene becomes even stranger when he finds random pieces of paper scattered around the kitchen floor in the following days. They aren’t many and most come from under the counters, but they all seem to belong to newspapers—from what little Connor can read in each one— and maybe, he’s just imagining it when he finds some that resemble petals.

Sumo probably found some of the old pages Hank keeps around in his room and is making it a hobby of eating them. It could explain why he’s skipping meals.

“Are you causing trouble?” Connor teases when Sumo tries to inspect the little papers he is cupping in one hand. The dog simply blinks at him and licks his teeth.

He sets a reminder to close the doors in the hallway the next time he heads out to the station.

* * *

Connor doesn’t want to say more odd things keep happening, but they certainly are unconventional.

Hank’s phone is pick pocketed while he is out buying groceries. He only realizes once he’s back when he tries to see the hour. Connor recommends going back to review the CCTV in the shop and file a description but Hank just tells him to let it go.

“It’s an old as fuck model and I don’t really have anything work-related in there.” and Connor must have shown some of his worry on his face, because Hank sighs while adding. “We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

They are both interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. 

There’s no one waiting outside once Connor goes to check but he stops himself from closing the door when he sees Hank’s phone resting neatly on the porch.

The sight of it catches him off-guard. He tilts his head dumbly at it, then looks around the street again to see if he can see anyone but there's not a soul outside. Slowly, Connor picks the phone up and makes a throughout scan but doesn’t pick any virus or malicious software coming from it. There doesn’t seem to be any fingerprints other than Hank’s but with the low temperatures is very probably whoever stole it wore gloves.

“What it is Connor?” Hank calls from behind him, leaning to the side to try and see who’s out there.

“Seems like whoever took your phone decided to give it back.”

“What?” Connor turns around and shows Hank his phone and is a little amused by how the lieutenant’s eyes widen. “What kind of bullshit is this?” 

“It doesn’t seem to be missing anything from what I can see.” The android tries the buttons and a few of the apps just to be sure but everything looks to be in order. 

“Huh.” Hank says, probably as confused as Connor feels. “Well look at that even the spirit of Christmas is reaching those little shits this year.” 

It’s not common for thieves to have a change of heart so suddenly,—less than two hours to be exact— but Connor doesn’t know how else to explain this.

The spirit also seems to spread around the precinct too. With Christmas right around the corner conversations about gifts, family coming to visit and details about celebrations are everywhere Connor goes. The excitement seems to give Chris the strength needed to ask Hank directly about whether they should expect him to come for the holiday. 

Hank manages to smile slightly as he declines the offer saying he’ll pass this time, but maybe New year he’ll come around. Chris looks a little down but nods his head in understanding. 

The lieutenant’s mood doesn’t seem to change drastically this time, though Connor notices the side glances the lieutenant throws his way when he says he’ll keep Hank company after he’s asked again.

“You don’t have to stay for my sake if you really want to go.” Hank tells him once Chris has gone back to his own terminal. Connor takes his eyes of his terminal to look at the lieutenant, trying to determine if he asking this as a subtle way to say he would like to be alone.

“It’d be interesting to see how Gavin would act when drunk,” that brings a not so subtle snort out of the other, “but I...would much prefer to spend time with you.”

“You are always with me nowadays.” The words makes Connor smile slightly, a truth he can’t exactly deny and honestly he is not bothered by it.

“Indeed, it seems I am.” Connor fidgets a little with his coin as Hank stares at him for a few minutes before shaking his head and looking back on his own terminal.

“Whatever floats your android boat I guess.” he says finally with a shrug and the two of them get to work after that.

It’s around the end of their shift when Hank surprises him, telling Connor to go back without him.

“I just need to look at some files before going home.”

“I could do it for you if you’d like.” Connor suggests, trying to convince him. Hank chuckles but dismisses the offer with a wave of his hand. His eyes remain on the terminal and Connor wants to see what he’s having trouble with but his body is posed in such a way that makes it difficult for him to look at the screen.

“Can’t always rely on you kid.” And although he doesn’t look it, Connor can tell there’s something bothering him possibly about what they talked earlier but he chooses not to pry and leaves the bullpen after saying goodbye.

“I’ll see you there, then.”

* * *

He’s grown so used to the two of them always going back together that the change of plans feels strange to him, though not as strange as what he finds home once he gets there.

He opens the front door only find _himself_ staring back at him from the kitchen with Sumo waiting by the android’s side. His doppelganger freezes the moment it makes eye contact with Connor, hands gripping the bag of dog food hoovering over Sumo’s bowl tightly as his face goes from a bored expression to one of shock. The kitchen is washed in the red of two LEDs, each on opposites corners. 

Connor almost thinks he’s having some sort of malfunction when he catches the serial number on a dirtied jacket, ending in -60, and the bullet wound on the other’s forehead. Not quite in the center as he previously believed it to be, but a little deflected towards the left temple. What stops him from initiating his combat protocols is how Sumo wags his tail happily and nudges the other Connor, trying to make more food fall into his plate. A small rose falls from one of the android’s pocket onto the floor, made out of newspaper.

Connor blinks dumbly at it as bit and pieces of things happening the last few days slow start to fit into place.

“You—.” Sumo barks at the same time Connor tries to talk and that seems to snap the RK800 out of his frozen state. Face twisting into one of anger, he doesn’t wait for the other to finish and throws the bag at Connor. He stumbles back to keep his balance as his arms try to wrap around the plastic. Glass shatters to his right while he struggles to stop the treats from spilling all over the floor. He looks up just in time to see how the other android grabs the edge of the broken window—ironically the same one he broke a month ago in order to get to a passed out Hank— and pushes himself outside.

Connor takes a look at the thirium around the windowsill, then at the figure rapidly getting out of sight and drops the half-empty bag on the floor.

“Sumo, _behave._ ” he says over his shoulder and follows the other android's steps.

The freezing winds hit his face as he tries to figure out where the rogue RK800 has gone to. Snowflakes turn his hair and clothes a dull white as he rounds another corner but finds nothing there. 

He knows the other android went in this direction but so far he’s met dead ends. The footprints mix with dozens of others on the street and the flesh layers of snow falling makes it difficult to follow the right set. His pre-constructions can show him some hindsight as to what a model such as himself would do but there are multiples options he could choose from and he’s not sure if his decisions would be the same than those of the other Connor. 

Not when he has a feeling the other is deviant too.

_#313 248 317—51 > are you there? _

He sends, trying to make a connection. He waits for the other to respond and, when he doesn’t, tries again.

_#313 248 317—51 > I just want to talk to you. _ _  
  
_

_#313 248 317—60 > about what. _

If he’s honest with himself he doesn’t really know so he goes for the first thing he can think of.

_#313 248 317—51 > are you working with Cyberlife? _

_#313 248 317—60 > ah yes of course, this was all part of a plan to kill you all, obviously. _

Charming.

Connor stops himself from rolling his eyes and tries to pin-point from where the signal is coming from, but the other RK800 blocks him easily.

_#313 248 317—60 > nice try. _

_#313 248 317—51 > if you are no longer with them, what were you trying to do in the house? _

He already has a fair guess as to why the android was there but at the very least he can buy time this way. Looking around the streets, he activates his scanner to see if there’s some thirium left he can track. 

No such luck.

_#313 248 317—60 > what did it look like I was doing? I’ve been feeding that dog for days, nice of you to finally notice. _

_#313 248 317—51 > why did you do that? _

There’s a pause on the other end.

_#313 248 317—60 > wouldn’t you like to know. _

The RK800 says right before he breaks the link and no matter how many times Connor tries to contact him again, he doesn’t responds. 

With nothing else to stand on Connor is left with no other option but to make his way back.

* * *

He is glad that Hank’s car is not parked outside when he reaches the house, at least that gives him a little time to clean up the house and think about a excuse ready to tell the lieutenant when he shows up. Sumo is sleeping next to an empty plate and pays no mind to the android as he picks up all the shards. Connor licks at the bowl just to be sure, though by now he’s not all surprised when he finds nothing harmful in it.

The origami flower sits neatly on the counter. The paper has been torn by hand but it’s still a fairly clean cut and despite the wrinkles and tears it looks well made, almost like how a real rose would. He doesn’t know it that’s such good thing. Connor has half a mind to throw it away with the rest of the glass. 

He doesn’t. Somehow it ends up not being moved from its place.

Connor cleans everything as best as he can but there’s little he can do about the window, and with all that happened today, he’s not even sure he can find a way to explain it to Hank that won’t make the man’s blood boil.

The sound of a car engine outside a few minutes later almost seems to seal his fate. As it is, he readies himself for the screams and sure enough...

“What the _hell happened to the window?!_ ” Hank’s yell get louder once he spots the kitchen window, one glass less. Connor doesn’t get the chance to talk before he’s bombarded with more questions. “God Connor what—what happened? Did someone break into the house?” 

More like the other way around.

The android sighs, thinking over the best way to put what he wants to say next. He guesses he _could_ lie about it but sooner or later Hank would probably find out—he didn’t make youngest lieutenant for nothing—and Connor would rather not face that wrath in the near future, preferably never if he can help it. 

“Do you remember that RK800 model that we faced in the Cyberlife Tower?”

Hank’s eyes narrow, his anger momentarily on hold as a more weary look takes over his features. “What that fucker has to do with this?”

* * *

_#313 248 317—51 > Hank is not too happy that you destroyed his window. _

Connor sends a few hours later, sitting by the kitchen table. Sumo is resting next to him on the floor and Hank hasn’t come out of his room in a while, he’s probably sleeping by now. After that long and frankly complicated explanation the android doesn’t blame him. 

_#313 248 317—60 > my apologies, tell him I’ll be glad to replace it with the money I don’t have. _

Connor begins to wonder if he has it in him to be this sarcastic too.

_#313 248 317—60 > by your news I presume you told him everything? _

_#313 248 317—51 > a shorter version actually but yes. _

_#313 248 317—60 > I’m sure that conversation must’ve been fantastic. _

Connor looks back at the window, now covered in cardboard box and black insulating tape. That talk _did_ involve a lot of screaming but overall, Hank’s reaction to an android basically infiltrating his home to feed his dog everyday turned to be pretty anti-climatic in the end. A door slamming shut was the highlight of that whole fiasco.

_#313 248 317—51 > to quote his exact words,‘what is it with you androids and my God damn windows?’ _

_#313 248 317—60 > well they are pretty breakable in my opinion. _

By now he’s certain Connor-60 was the one behind that call at the bar, and Hank getting his phone back so quickly and, of course, he's also the reason Sumo is full more often. All harmless and — hopefully— innocent things. So far he’d done nothing to put their life in any danger even though he’d been more than ready to do that in the past.

He can't really judge too much his previous actions either. As a deviant hunter, Connor-60 was just following a mission back then—much like he had, although on the deviants’ side—but even with the Rk800’s apparent new-found free will, Connor would still like to know his intentions.

_#313 248 317—51 > I remember you being a lot more machine-like when we first met. _

_#313 248 317—60 > guess being shot through the head and surviving the whole thing counts as enough of a ‘emotional shock’ for this vessel. _

And, although all he has to believe his newly developed deviancy are his words, Connor has to agree. Something like that would be pretty stressful for their processors.

He looks at the paper flower again, still siting by the sink and picks it up. He spins the rose around in his fingers, watching the thorns crumple in his palm.

_#313 248 317—51 > this is a nicely done origami. _

_#313 248 317—60 > when you got a lot of time and the whole internet in your head, skills comes up naturally. Not to mention... _

_#313 248 317—60 > it reminds me of her. _

Despite his best efforts Connor frowns a little at her mention.

_#313 248 317—51 > you don't have access to the Garden?_

_#313 248 317—60 > Of course I do, I just like to spend my time out here to look miserable. There's no Garden anymore, don't you think that's the first thing I tried? The whole program was deleted the moment their final plan to take over you failed. _

And that surprises Connor more than anything else. Hesitantly, he tries to access the Zen Garden, but the connection is rejected the moment he does. A message pops up on his peripheral vision _‘Error# unable to find > Zen_Garden’ _when he goes for a second try.

He drops the rose on the table and has the urge to laugh. All this time and he’d been nervous of a place that no longer existed.

_#313 248 317—51 > so it seems._

_#313 248 317—60 > did you really just tried to access it? _

_#313 248 317—51 > ...no._

_#313 248 317—60 > Whatever, just tell me what you want from me already._

_#313 248 317—51 > I just would like to understand the reasoning behind all you've done these past days._

_#313 248 317—60 > Excuse me for trying to make it up to you in some way for almost murdering you, my bad._

Connor lets out a curse when he's unable to send another message as the other RK800 seemingly blocks the connection.

“Well done, Connor.” he mutters to himself, covering his face with one hand.

He's about to leave the table when a new message pings him unexpectedly.

_#313 248 317—60 >You are so lucky, you know. _

_#313 248 317—51 >What do you mean? _

Connor asks, a little confused since he didn’t expect for the other to continue their talk.

_#313 248 317—60 > you have _ _a partner that trust you, a place you can always go back to, even a pet._

_#313 248 317—51 > actually he is Hank’s. _

_#313 248 317—60 > shut. up. _

There’s no audio in this conversation but even then Connor can hear the hatred in the other’s voice, and it only seems to get bigger the more the other Connor goes on.

_#313 248 317—60 > _ _I’m Connor but at the same time I’m not. I’m not the Connor that saved the androids, I’m not Lieutenant Anderson’s friend._

_#313 248 317—60 > _ _The only thing I have that is remotely close are memories of that, of something I can never truly call mine._

_#313 248 317—51 > _ _That’s not true._

Connor tries to interviene but the other android ignores him.

_#313 248 317—60 > _ _Cyberlife is done for, Connor._

_#313 248 317—60 > _ _they threw me away like trash without even trying to see if I was still operational. Amanda is gone, and the only thing she left behind was her disappointment._

There’s a lot of things that are different between them but Connor, he thinks he can understand this part, at least. 

He knows the feeling those words can evoque well.

_#313 248 317—60 > s_ _o_ _if it’s not true then, what’s left for me?_

And that’s what this all was about, this Connor just trying to find a place to belong and he’d resorted to the only one he had left with Cyberlife out of the picture. Reminds Connor of someone he knows.

_#313 248 317—51 > _ _something better..._

The RK800 doesn’t say anything.

Thunder crashing outside distracts Connor for a second and he looks at the storm ready to rage outside through what little is left of the window. He connects with the weather channel.

_#313 248 317—51 > there’s a big storm coming up. _

_#313 248 317—60 > subtle topic change there. _

_#313 248 317—51 >the low temperatures could freeze your biocomponents. _

_#313 248 317—60 > you almost make it sound as if that would be a bad thing. _

Connor frowns at that, not liking how the other disregards his safety so lightly. 

And yes, the irony of that thought is not lost on him either.

_#313 248 317—51 > it would. _

_#313 248 317—51 > do you have any shelter? _

_#313 248 317—60 > if you consider two dumpsters and a piece of cardboard a shelter. _

_#313 248 317—51 > Isn't there anywhere you can go?_

_#313 248 317—60 > where could I ever go? I don't think you friends back at Jericho would want a reminder of the only thing that almost cost them their freedom._

_#313 248 317—51 > then how about you come here again, without so much secrecy this time. _

The connection goes quite after that, thought Connor-60 doesn’t disconnect from it, and that gives him a little confidence to keep going. Connor feels something shift by his feet, and looks down at Sumo. He’s greeted by sad-looking eyes staring curiously at him. 

_#313 248 317—51 > Sumo misses you. _

_#313 248 317—60 > that mutt only wants me for the food. _

_#313 248 317—51 > I can’t neither confirm or deny that statement. _

_#313 248 317—60 > and what does the Lieutenant has to say to this?_

_#313 248 317—51 > Well..._

There's a pause as Connor tries to think of something. 

_#313 248 317—60 > he doesn't even know about this idea, does he? _

_#313 248 317—51 > I don't think Hank would oppose to this._

Well not for very long, he hopes.

_#313 248 317—60 > So I'm just supposed to believe that and what? Hope for the best?_

_#313 248 317—51 > we won't know for sure unless we try._

_#313 248 317—60 > I can't fucking believe you._

_#313 248 317—60 > ....why are you so adamant for me to go there_ anyways?

Because he reminds Connor of how lost he was before Hank took him in. Because he probably has the best guess on what this RK800 is feeling— the exact same way he felt months ago. Because he worries about Hank just like Connor does and maybe, they are the closest thing he has to a family, too.

_#313 248 317—51 > Because I don’t think anyone deserves to be alone. _

He looks at the clock on the wall where the handles mark exactly midnight.

_#313 248 317—51 > much less on Christmas’ eve. _

Connor doesn’t know what the other has to say to that, the line goes dead again.

* * *

It’s true he sent the invitation but nevertheless he’s still a little startled when he hears a soft knock on the door.

Connor lets the RK800 in, choosing not to say a word when he sees how on-edge the other is. The tense air hanging around them breaks almost immediately when Sumo throws himself at the newcomer and starts demanding for attention, not the least bit bothered by the awkwardness surrounding the two models.

“I told you he missed you,” Connor says when the other gives him an incredulous look.

“Of course, it knows who really takes care of it in this house.” Connor-60 says with a smirk. His LED changes from red to a light yellow and—much like Connor— he lowers his guard.

The storm hits an hour after the two settle in the living room. Connor can’t help but look at the wound on Connor-60’s forehead, and how the synthetic skin leaves a circle of white around it.

And of course, the other doesn’t let it slide. 

“I took the bullet out but unless you have a plastic plate to spare in here I don’t think this can be fixed.”

Connor looks at the door leading to the bathroom.

“Not quite, but maybe I can do something about it.”

Is not the best but the patch Connor finds in the first aid kit works well enough to hide the wound from view.

They both decide to wait out the storm in the couch. There’s not really enough room to hold two androids plus a huge dog that refuses to sleep on the floor comfortably, but they make do. Connor-60 keeps petting Sumo during the night, who’s happy enough to have two laps that can act as a pillow instead of just one.

“A special kind of idiot, choosing hard plastic over soft _actual_ pillows.” he tells Sumo but doesn’t stop scratching his head.

“I don’t think he cares.” The other RK800 huffs at Connor’s words, but a small smile shows up on his face when Sumo gives an affectionate lick to his hand. 

“Idiot,” he repeats. For the first time since their battle in the tower, Connor sees the other’s LED spin blue.

* * *

Connor-60 is the first one to notice the figure standing in the hallway. 

Connor pushes Sumo gently and gets up, though it ends up being a bad move when both try to explain to Hank at the same time.

“Hank please—.”

“Lieutenant I—.”

“Okay no, fuck you I’m too old and too tired right now for round two of... whatever the fuck _this_ is.” He shakes his head before pointing at one Connor then the other. “I’m not calling you both Connor so you two better sort that out before you talk to me.” 

Both androids look at each other, ignoring how Hank raises an eyebrow when they decide to talk wirelessly instead of discussing with their voices.

_#313 248 317—51 > Well that went much better than expected._

_#313 248 317—60 > So far but I don’t think you’d agree to the old rock, paper, scissors game to fight for your name. _

_#313 248 317—51 > I don’t think it would be fair when you are a Connor too. _

_#313 248 317—60 > but I’m not you. _

_#313 248 317—51 > well then, who would you rather be? _

“Sixty,” the other Connor— _Sixty_ — says out loud to Hank after a bit of thinking. “You can call me Sixty.”

“Great, now that you talked it all out.” Hank rounds the couch and turns to Sixty. “Are you going to be a problem?” his tone is cold.

“No..sir.” Sixty replies as his hands runs through Sumo’s fur idly, unsure of how to address him. His LED flickers yellow a few times before going back to blue. “I won’t.” Whatever Hank sees in those brown eyes that stare back at him seem to be enough. He nods and backs down.

“Good, now help me get to the car.” He then puts on shoes and grabs for a winter coat set on the hanger.

Sixty looks questioningly at Connor, but he’s equally in the dark.

“The car?”

“Yeah with all that.. _.happened_ yesterday I forgot to take it out. Remember Connor when I told you I’d think about it? Well I’m not going all out on Christmas joy but I guess we can start with something, even if we are now one more that I expected.”

“I can leave if you want.” Sixty murmurs making a move for the front door. Hank gets there first however, and blocks him.

“Kid you’re already here, I’m not jumping at the opportunity to kicking you out and breaking more windows in the process. Besides we might need another pair of hands,” he turns and grabs the door handle.

“I forgot how much bullshit it was to find one, being so close to—ah Jesus fuck.” Hank yelps as he opens the door and a good amount of snow covers his feet. “Fuck you too nature, now help get that damn tree.”

The Christmas tree is small but on top of the little table next to the window, it has a certain charm to it. There are not a lot of decorations in the garage—not enough to fully decorate the tree—and they can’t go out to buy more as everything is closed, but Sixty fixes that problem when he finds a stack of colorful papers in between boxes. 

The three of them fill each branch with origami figures, mostly roses of different colors but for once Connor doesn’t mind much, they do look pretty. Even Sumo gets a neatly pair of paper antlers to match.

At one point Connor sorts through lighting some candles and watches how Sixty and Hank fight over what new ornament should go next. As far as Christmas preparations go and from what he’s read, he thinks these one are pretty unconventional.

“Oh my God, enough with the fucking flowers!”

“Not until there’s an even number of color for each of them!” 

But they are wonderful nonetheless.

* * *

It all ends with an innocent question—

“Would you like to stay for Christmas?”

and a simple answer— 

“Yeah, I'd like to.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was part of an event from the [New ERA server](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm), come have a look if you want :)


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